Your
James.
Four weeks after, Martha, a woman through her sufferings, and true to her womanhood in acting honestly, gave her hand to William Stillson, promising to be his faithful wife. James heard the words that separated them forever, and seemed to grow stronger for his duties at home. He never visited her, but when she bore a beautiful boy to her husband, he felt that he might love the child, and this wee one became his plaything for many a month, until they moved to a distant part of the country. Then, for the first time, though he missed the boy and the sweet face of the mother, he was no longer under restraint. He could have her in his thoughts better than in his sight.
Many a year went by quietly, even happily, to James, for we find our highest happiness in doing our daily duties. He had earned his mother and sister a lovely home, which is much for any man single handed to do; was respected in the community, well read through his industry and perseverance, and a genial and good-principled citizen.
Nellie had married a widower with several motherless children, and she was doing for others what had been done for her. Then the good mother, when her time was fully come, died and was buried, and James was left alone.
Everybody supposed he would marry now; wondered why he was a bachelor! All the married ladies pitied him for their daughters’ sakes, and ladies of uncertain ages looked wistfully in his direction. An old lady kept his house neatly, while in books and memories and social converse his days went by rapidly.
One morning the house went through an extra cleaning and arranging. An old schoolfriend, a bachelor like himself, was coming to spend several days with him, and the good housekeeper, a spinster herself, but old enough to be the mother of both of them, could not help feeling a little tremulousness with regard to the new-comer. James secretly felt more than ordinary interest in his coming, from the fact that Mrs. Stillson lived in the same place.
“I believe I have a friend in your vicinity,” said James to his friend the first evening, at the supper table.
“Ah! I suppose some flame—a maiden lady about your age, probably.”
“No. A Mrs. Stillson I refer to. We were very excellent friends when we were young.”